


'Twas the Night Before Christmas

by jdmusiclover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Romance, captain swan 3b canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21935695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/pseuds/jdmusiclover
Summary: Season 3b canon divergence.  While on their way to the farmhouse to confront the Wicked Witch on Christmas Eve, Emma and Killian get caught in a blizzard.  This is not at all the Christmas Eve Emma was looking forward to
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 11
Kudos: 62
Collections: CSSECRETSANTA2k19





	'Twas the Night Before Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stahlop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stahlop/gifts).



_Notes:_

_\--*waves* Hi, @stahlop! It’s me, your secret Santa! I know it’s early on Christmas Eve to post your story, but I’m going to be insanely busy most of the rest of the day. I hope you enjoy your gift, and I hope that you have a wonderful holiday season!_

_\--It should hopefully be obvious from the story itself, but this is a canon divergence from 3x20. It’s been a minute, so a quick reminder of what was going on in our favorites’ lives at this point in the story: Zelena cursed Hook’s lips so that the next time he kissed Emma, she’d lose her magic. She threatened to kill Emma’s family, starting with Henry, if Hook told Emma about the curse. Hook then decided to send Henry to New York where he’d (hopefully) be safe, but before that could happen, Zelena’s monkey’s attacked. With the help of Emma and the Charmings, Hook was able to defeat the monkeys, but not before Zelena showed up, told everyone about the curse and promised to kill Henry. Emma and the Charmings are furious at Hook for keeping the curse secret. This story takes place in the following episode just after Hook and Emma head to the farmhouse to confront Zelena. Divergences for this story: 1. Snow hasn’t yet gone into labor. 2. Zelena and Rumple aren’t waiting for CS at the farmhouse. 3. It’s Christmas Eve. 4. Blizzard._

_\--Without further ado:_

**‘Twas the Night Before Christmas**

Emma stomped into the farmhouse, ripping off her thoroughly snow-covered beanie and scarf and tossing them to the floor. Of course she was trapped in the freaking Wicked Witch of the West’s creepy farmhouse--with Hook--on Christmas Eve--because of course she was! That’s the way her life worked anymore. Why’d she ever let Hook talk her into taking that memory potion in New York? Her life was _good_ there. No monsters. No over-the-top fairy tale villains. No magic. Just her and her son living their lives and being a _normal_ family.

Granted, none of it had been real, she’d almost gotten engaged to a flying monkey and a part of her, even during the best moments in New York, felt like there was something missing, but that was beside the point! She and Henry had been _happy_. Was it really such a terrible thing to want to be happy?

Why the hell did Hook have to show up and destroy it all?

“We’re in luck, love,” the man himself called out cheerfully as he stepped inside and then, with some difficulty, closed the door against the bitter, howling wind. “Zelena may be wicked, but at least she’s practical. She left a nice, neat pile of firewood on the far side of the house. Perhaps being stuck in a blizzard is’t the ideal way to spend Christmas Eve, but at least we’ll be quite comfortable.”

She rounded on him, wanting nothing more to wipe the smile from his face with a swift right hook. “Not ideal? _Not ideal?!_ Hook, my son, my parents, my baby brother or sister and the whole town are in danger from a crazy witch who wants to go back in time and wipe out my entire family line. I think we’re a long way past not ideal.”

The smile slid from Hook’s face. “It was not my intention to be flippant, Swan, but we must deal with the situation at hand. You will be of no use to your lad or the rest of the town if you freeze to death, and at least we have the means to prevent that.”

“But Henry--”

“Will be fine,” Hook reassured, striding across the room until he could place reassuring hand and hook on her shoulders. “He’s with Regina, and even at the height of her villainy, she loved Henry. Protecting him will be her number one priority.”

Loathe as she was to admit it, Hook was right. After the whole debacle yesterday--the storybook bringing back Henry’s memories, Zelena showing up and exposing Hook’s whole kiss curse situation, Zelena promising to kill Henry, Henry and Regina breaking the curse with True Love’s Kiss, the revelation of how the curse was cast in the first place (she still couldn’t believe her mother had actually crushed her father’s heart to cast it!)--Regina’s first act was to place a number of complex protection spells over Henry and every location he frequented. Henry would likely suffer no lasting damage.

But Emma hadn’t wanted to take any chances. With Regina protecting Henry, and with Emma’s brother or sister still showing no signs of coming out and greet the world, Emma decided she was done playing defense. It was high time she take the fight to the Wicked Witch. It was time to end this. So armed with her magic and her faithful pirate, Emma had stormed out in the direction of Zelena’s farmhouse.

Stormed, it seemed, being the key word. It began snowing just before she and Hook left her parent’s loft, and by the time they reached Zelena’s place, they were dealing with a full on blizzard.

Really, being home was the _least_ Zelena could do given the fact Emma was giving up Christmas Eve with her son to kick her ass, but no. She couldn’t even give them that. There was no telling where Zelena and her Dark One puppet had gone, but it was clear they were not at home.

Emma hoped the witch froze solid in the blizzard.

Killian busied himself arranging the logs in the fireplace and then tried--without success--to start a blaze with the lighter he’d found lying upon the mantle. Emma watched him struggle for a while, before growling, pushing him aside and calling on her reserves of anger and frustration to produce a fireball that soon had the fire blazing merrily.

“Bloody brilliant, love,” Killian murmured in obvious awe. Despite herself, Emma felt her confidence soar in the wake of Hook’s constant, never-wavering faith in her. 

“You know Swan, it could be worse,” Hook said with a wicked grin. “At least you’re trapped with a dashing rapscallion like meself. There are any number of ways we could find to amuse ourselves that I can promise would be very enjoyable for both of us.”

When he waggled his eyebrows in that ridiculously over-the-top way of his, she lost it.

“Are you freaking kidding me right now?” she nearly shouted. “We’re stuck here, my family’s in danger, a psycho witch and her equally psycho Dark One sidekick are still on the loose and all you can do is flirt!”

Growling, she turned to the fireplace, and tossed another fireball at the kindled wood for good measure, furious beyond belief at Hook, at Zelena, at the situation and, if she was being totally honest, at herself for the secret thrill that went through her every time he made outrageous or suggestive comments to her while giving her _that_ look. There was _nothing_ between them! There never would be. She wouldn’t let it.

The farmhouse was silent for several moments, save for the crackling of the fire, and Emma eventually turned back toward Hook. The look he gave her was a little too knowing, a little too understanding. When he’d come for her in New York, he’d told her he knew her better than she knew herself, and though she hated to admit it, it was true. It was a little unnerving how very well he understood her.

“Swan, what is this really about?” he asked simply. 

Emma growled. “What do you mean, ‘What’s this really about?’ Did you forget about a certain green bitch with an insane grudge against her sister?”

“Of course not,” Hook said patiently, “but despite being snowed in, we are in no worse straights than we were yesterday. You heard it yourself from your mother when you used your talking phone to let her know of our whereabouts. Your family is fine, and Zelena hasn’t been seen since our confrontation in the boat house. I reiterate. What’s this really about?”

Emma glared at him for a long moment, before she finally sighed and dropped rather dramatically onto one of the ornate armchairs before the fire. “It’s just...it’s just Christmas is Henry’s favorite time of year. That kid _loves_ Christmas. Every year back in New York--and then in Boston before that--Christmas Eve was special. We made a tradition out of it. We’d sit before the tree drinking cocoa, reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’, singing our favorite carols. Sometimes he even managed to talk me into letting him open a present or two. It was the one night I never, under any circumstances, accepted a case or worked on one I had ongoing. Christmas was for us.”

Emma felt the tears threatening at the back of her throat and she swallowed roughly, doing everything she knew to keep them from spilling over. “And now, here I am on Christmas Eve, separated from him. The kid’s going to be crushed.”

“Love,” Hook said gently, “the lad has a kind heart and a good head on his shoulders. He understands the circumstances are beyond your control. He knows how much spending this night together means to you, and he knows you’d never miss spending it with him.”

“You know what the worst part of it is?” Emma asked bitterly. “The worst part of it is, as you’ve pointed out to me multiple times, none of it was _real_. It didn’t happen. It was nothing but the pleasant fake memories Regina gave us.”

Killian took ahold of her hand, and in a move that shocked even her, she let him. “This past year, the lost year, was real. Trust me love, Henry understands why you weren’t with him during the first ten years of his life. He knows you didn’t abandon him. He knows you did what you had to do to give him a good life.”

“Maybe,” Emma said, a lone tear breaking free and flowing down her cheek despite herself.

“Definitely,” Killian said with conviction

The lights flickered once and then went off completely, pitching the farmhouse into darkness, save for the flickering light from the fire. Despite it being merely late-afternoon, the storm outside seems to have eclipsed the sun entirely.

“Fabulous,” Emma said with a groan. “As if being stuck in a witch’s farmhouse on Christmas Eve wasn’t bad enough, now we’ll probably freeze to death without the heat.”

“I rather doubt that, Darling” Hook said with a flirtatious quirk of his eyebrow. He slid his tongue along his bottom lip in a way that had Emma’s pulse racing, before invading her space and whispering the last bit. “I’m sure we can come up with a way to keep warm.”

Emma leaned into him, actually leaned into him for a moment, before shaking herself out of it and taking a deliberate step back.

“Stop, Hook, just...stop!” she said through gritted teeth. “This whole _thing_ is your fault! All of it! We were _happy_ in New York, and you had to barge in and destroy it for us. Then we get back here, and you manage to get yourself cursed--joke’s on Zelena by the way. If she was smart, she’d have chosen to enchant the lips of someone I’d actually kiss. Then you decide to take matters into your own hand instead of telling me about the threat to _my_ son. Hell, this is probably part of the plan too, isn’t it? Get me alone, stranded in a blizzard and then try to seduce me.”

She’d hurt him. She saw that clearly in his face for the space of two heartbeats, and then that hurt coalesced into anger. “Despite what you may think of me, Swan, I’ve not yet developed an ability to control the weather.

Without another word, he stomped to the door.

“Where are you going?” she yelled after him, fire still flashing in her eyes.

“To gather more firewood,” he answered, voice hard.

And with a fierce slam of the door, he was gone.

For long moments after the door slammed after Hook, Emma continued to seeth. Why was her life the way it was? Why couldn’t she just be _normal_? Why couldn’t she go back to her pleasant, comfortable life in New York with her son? When she told people she was going back after this whole Zelena situation was over, why did they all look at her like she had just stated her plan to kick puppies? This was _her_ life, and she could live it as she pleased! It was _her_ prerogative to do what she felt was necessary to protect her son. Where did Hook get off trying to convince her to stay with her family--and with him?

It’s not like she’d never see her loved ones again. They’d still visit, and her family was welcome to come visit them. But she was done. She was done being the “savior”, done going after psychotic fairy tale villains, done being everything to everybody. And most especially, she was done dealing with a pirate who made her heart race in a way she couldn’t control.

She’d done the whole “falling in love” thing before, and she had no intention of doing it again.

But as the minutes continued ticking past, Emma’s anger began to fade, and concern took its place. Hook had been gone a _long_ time; way too long to just gather up firewood. What if….what if she’d finally driven him away? What if he’d actually left her this time? 

A sick feeling took up residence in the pit of her stomach at the thought. She wanted to tell herself she didn’t care; that she was glad he had finally stopped pestering her, but she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Hook had become much more than an ally to the heroes’ cause. He’d become a friend, quite possibly the best friend she had. He was her confidant, her support. His endless faith in her gave her confidence when she no longer had faith in herself. And the fact that he was so drop dead gorgeous and romantic that her insides turned to mush whenever he looked at her couldn’t be denied, at least not in the deep recesses of her heart where the truth resided.

Truth was, he’d been everything she needed during this whole stupid Wicked Witch business. Despite what she might have said to him, she knew he pushed her not to further his own romantic interests but because he genuinely wanted her to find happiness.

And what did she do? Time and time again, she pushed him away. Time and time again she reforged the wall around her heart, trying to drive him away with cruel, cutting words.

Had she actually succeeded this time? Was he ready to give up on her like everyone else had? Gods, how was she going to handle it if he had? Through everything, he’d been a constant in her life. Why did she always do this? Why did she always push away the people in her life that meant the most?

A small kernel of hope still lived inside her, reassuring her that he’d never abandoned her before, he wasn’t going to start now.

But that thought brought with it an entirely new concern. What if something happened to him? What if he was lost, freezing to death in the blizzard? What if Zelena was lying in wait for him? What if…?

As the minutes continued to pass, increasingly more fantastical worries about what may have happened to him took up residence in her mind until Emma feared she’d go crazy with the worry. She was just on the point of going after him, when suddenly the door swung open, the furious blizzard winds blowing in both Killian and a fair amount of snow.

Without a word, Killian deposited an arm full of firewood beside the fire and then stepped outside to grab one more thing, before firmly closing the door again and shaking his head and shoulders like a wet dog.

The relief that suddenly flooded Emma was so strong that she couldn’t help herself. She threw herself in his arms and buried her nose in his icy cold neck. He was here; he’d come back to her. He was okay.

For a moment, Killian stood still, but then his hooked arm came around her, and he hugged her to himself as tightly as she clung to him. “Swan?” he asked.

Emma stepped back, wiping at her suddenly damp eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, voice wavering with the emotion still at the back of his throat. “I thought you’d left, and I get it. The stuff I said to you--it was over the line and I’m sorry.”

Killian took a quick step back, unmistakable hurt back in his eyes. “You thought I’d left? Emma, haven’t I proven to you by now that I’d never leave you?”

“I know!” she was quick to reassure. “It was stupid okay? I just--I don’t know; I got scared, and when I get scared--” she shrugged. “Wounds from the past tend to linger.”

His face softened. “Well they needn’t with me,” he said gently. “I’m not so easily driven away.”

She smiled at him, a small, tenuous thing, but then the item in his hand caught her eye. “Is that a pine tree?”

Killian smiled again. “It’s not much, I’m afraid, but it was the best I could find in this tempest.”

“You got us a Christmas tree?”

Killian suddenly turned away, scratching at the back of his ear. “I thought about what you said, Swan, about the traditions you are missing with your lad today. I know it’s not the same as spending the day with him, but I thought--” he shrugged self-consciously, “I thought perhaps it would make your holiday marginally less bleak if we recreated some of your favorite traditions ourselves.”

For the second time that evening, Emma threw her arms around Killian. “That’s one of the most thoughtful things anyone’s ever done for me.”

“I aim to please.”

******

Two hours later, Emma and Killian sat with each other before the fire, steaming mugs of instant hot cocoa in hand. Emma smiled, looking over at the tree that they’d managed to decorate with bits and baubles they’d found scavenging through Zelena’s house (and leaving quite a mess in their wake, which felt rather satisfying). Phase one of “Operation Christmas Cheer”, as Emma decided to call it in honor of Henry, complete, they’d turned their pillaging to the kitchen, managing to put together a haphazard meal of bread and cheese that Killian had toasted over the fire. It was Emma who found the box of instant cocoa mix in Zelena’s cupboard, and, resourceful as always, Killian had heated it over the fire in a small saucepan.

Meal prepared, they’d raided every bedroom and closet, bringing all the pillows, blankets, comforters and afghans they could find and arranging a nest for themselves before the fire.

“I’m afraid we’ll need to bed down for the night here before the fire, Swan,” Killian said, once again scratching at his neck. “With the storm still raging fiercely, we’d freeze in any of the bedrooms.”

Truth be told, Emma thought, as she bit into her grilled cheese sandwich, though she missed being with Henry, this Christmas Eve wasn’t turning out half bad. 

They ate in companionable silence, and when the last crumb had been consumed, Killian turned toward her with a smile. “Are you ready for your story, Swan?”

“Story?” She asked.

“Of course,” he answered. “That was an integral part of your Christmas Eve tradition, was it not? Reading with your lad?”

Emma smiled. “It was, but don’t worry about it. It would be too much to ask that the Wicked Witch would keep any Christmas books around.”

“No matter,” Killian said, settling more comfortably onto his side of their blanket nest. “I’ve no need of a book.”

“Oh really?” she grinned. “How are you going to manage to read me a story with no book?”

“I’ve all I need up here, love,” he said, pointing to his head. “Sit back and prepare to be transported into the holiday spirit. ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house…”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “Wait, you know ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’?”

Killian gave her a mock offended look. “I do read, Swan. Quite extensively in fact.”

Emma smiled, laying upon her pillow and pulling a comforter up to cover her. “Well, by all means, then, continue.”

As Killian’s voice droned on, reciting the story of a man awakened by the arrival of Santa Claus on Christmas Eve night, Emma felt her eyelids become heavy, and before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep, not visions of sugar plums, but visions of a thoughtful pirate that she just might be starting to fall for, dancing in her head.

************

Christmas morning dawned clear and bright, the blizzard finally at an end. Emma woke to bright sunshine streaming through the front window. For a moment, she was disoriented, wondering where she was and how she’d gotten there, but then the previous day rushed back to her. Going after Zelena, the blizzard, being trapped in the farmhouse, taking out her frustration on Hook, being afraid Hook had left her, being overjoyed when he returned, his thoughtful Christmassy gestures.

Still thinking of Hook, Emma gradually became aware that she was quite warm and comfortable--and that was all thanks to the man who was currently spooning her, his strong arms holding her close. They’d gone to sleep with a respectable amount of space between them; how did they wind up in each other’s arms?

For a moment, Emma wanted to run. This was too close, too intimate, too--much.

But the more Emma thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t want to run, not anymore, not from this man. He’d been proving himself to her over and over again since Neverland. In the past few weeks alone, he’d been her rock as all this Wicked Witch crap had been going down. He’d found her in New York--somehow; she was still fuzzy on the details--restored her memories, brought her back to her family, contributed an excellent strategic mind to planning sessions, been one of the best listening ears she’d ever had.

And then the harder to swallow stuff. In these early morning moments, she could admit to herself that though some of the things he said to her were uncomfortable, they were uncomfortable truths. Walsh’s presence in her life proved that she couldn’t get away from the fairytale crap, not really. The fact that Henry had his memories back meant she couldn’t take him back to New York, at least not without a hell of a fight--with him, with Regina, with her parents, with everyone. He’d spoken the truth to her about all of it, even at the risk of her turning on him completely. It was the mark of someone who truly, genuinely cared.

And all the while, she’d treated him like something nasty she’d stepped in. She’d pushed, and pushed and pushed, but he’d stayed by her side. He’d been so patient with her, he really ought to qualify for sainthood.

It was Christmas, the time to be with the ones you loved. The time to tell them what they truly meant to you. 

She turned over in his arms and ran a hand over his stubbly cheek. Still caught up in sleep, he mumbled “Swan” on a fond sigh, before opening his eyes--and then jumping to his feet faster than any person she’d ever seen.

“Swan!” he said, face flaming. “My apologies love. Not that I didn’t enjoy waking up with you in my arms, but I had no intention of taking advantage.”

Emma smiled, rolling her eyes fondly. “Sit back down, you Victorian drama queen. You didn’t take advantage. Somehow we just--ended up like that over night. Besides; I kind of liked it. You’re warm.”

Killian did as she asked, sitting cross legged beside her as she sat up to mirror him. “Just warm, love? I’ve it on good authority that I’m hot.”

Emma laughed, playfully swatting his arm. “Do you ever run out of these cheesy lines?”

“Haven’t yet in my three hundred years of existence.”

They laughed together for a moment, but then Emma turned serious, remnants of her musings of the morning still very much in mind. “Hook, I think we need to talk.”

The smile slid from his face. “As stated in Neverland, love, I find when a woman says that, I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

“You might be surprised this time.”

“Aye?” he asked, brow raising in interest. 

“I just--” she started, not sure how to even go about untangling all of the thoughts twisted up in her head. “I get it; I get why you didn’t tell me about the lips curse thing. I get that you were trying to protect Henry the best way you were able in an impossible situation. I’m sorry I jumped down your throat about it.”

“You were concerned for your lad,” Killian said. “I quite understand being angry at finding someone was keeping something about his welfare from you.”

“It’s not that,” Emma said, “or at least not _just_ that. Hook, I trust you; I really do. I know you wouldn’t deliberately hurt Henry. It’s just--hearing what Zelena threatened and what she did to you, it just brought it home again that I’m not _enough_. Even with the whole savior thing, I can’t do a damn thing to help my family. Zelena knows if she takes my magic, I’m useless.”

Killian straightened, frowning ferociously down at her. “I cannot abide that kind of talk about the woman I--well, the woman I care for, particularly when it is blatantly false. Emma, you _are_ enough. You’re more than enough, and it’s because she knows it that Zelena is going after you. She said something similar to me. She told me that she wants me to take away your magic, the thing that makes you special, but she was wrong as well. Your magic isn’t what makes you special. There’s not a bit of you that isn’t extraordinary. Swan your determination, your goodness in the face of a difficult childhood, your strength and courage. All of it make you who you are. All of it convinces me without a doubt that even without your magic, you could defeat Zelena.”

Emma felt like a ball of warmth surrounded her, suffused her at his words. She loved him. She’d never admitted it to herself before, but nonetheless it was true. She loved him, and she was _done_ hiding behind her walls.

And she was certainly _done_ letting villains try to determine her love life.

“Killian, can I ask you a question?” she asked.

“Anything, love.”

“Back in New York, when you first came to my apartment. That was True Love’s Kiss you tried, wasn’t it?”

There was the scratching at his neck again. “Aye. I knew it was a long shot, but I had to try.”

“So you...you love me?”

His eyes widened. “Swan, if you haven’t realized that by now, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“No I mean, you _truly_ love me, like curse-breaking true love?”

“For my part, aye,” he said, looking directly in her eyes. “There’s no doubt in my mind, but for True Love to break a curse, it must be reciprocated. New York proved that it is not, as is your prerogative, of course.”

Emma was silent for a moment, gathering her courage. Finally she met his eyes. “True Love’s Kiss also doesn’t work when one party doesn’t remember the other.”

He stared at her incredulously for a long moment. “Are you saying you think we share True Love?” he began, apparently unable to finish the sentence.

Emma shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. How could I? But--I’m willing to test it out. Are you?”

He swallowed hard. “Gods know how badly I wish to kiss you, Swan, but are you sure? Your magic is part of who you are. I cannot be the reason you lose it.”

“You won’t,” Emma said, scooting forward and invading his space. “I think this will work, but even if it doesn’t I know that there’s nothing our family can’t accomplish. With or without my magic, Greeny doesn’t stand a chance. So what do you say? Are you willing to take a leap of faith?”

In answer, Killian leaned forward covering her lips with his own. Emma sighed into the kiss, everything about it felt _right_. Come what may, she was not denying herself this pleasure again.

Emma had just tilted her head to deepen the kiss, when suddenly a shockwave burst forth from their joined lips and suffused the entire farmhouse. She pulled away. “Hook--was that--?”

His face a mask of awe, Killian answered. “I think so. Give it a try, my love.”

Emma concentrated her emotions, directing them toward the place within her where her magic had always been. Continuing to focus, she waved her hand, and suddenly a fireball shot forth, reigniting the fire that had burnt down to mere embers.

“True Love,” she said in shock. “It’s true love.”

“Aye that it is,” Killian said, moving toward her once again. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Well, for starters, this,” Emma said, surging forward with enough vigor to knock him to the floor. Emma took his mouth with the kind of wild abandon she’d never even imagined displaying. He gave back as good as he got, his hand tangling in her hair and his hooked arm molding her to himself. 

Emma’s hand had just moved to unclasp his vest when suddenly the farmhouse door opened and Leroy burst through, walkie talkie in hand. “Relax your majesties,” he said. “I found ‘em. Their at the farmhouse sucking face like a couple horny teenagers.”

Emma sighed in frustration before getting to her feet and then offering Killian her hand.

“You know, Swan,” Killian said when he was back on his feet. “I think someone needs to muzzle that dwarf.”

Emma giggled, as the sound of her father’s shocked “ _WHAT?!_ ” on the other end of the walkie came through.

She shrugged. “What can I say? It wouldn’t be Christmas without a little family drama.”

“True enough, love. Shall we adjourn to your parents’ loft and face the music together?”

“Absolutely,” Emma answered, taking his hand and lacing his fingers with hers. “Together is how I see us doing a lot of things in the future.”


End file.
